


MIA

by Elfbert



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfbert/pseuds/Elfbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm loses something important to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	MIA

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Sue

"And lastly, no one working alone must be without a communicator. That goes for pairs of crew working in distant parts of the ship, too," Archer finished. The assembled crew nodded solemnly. Reed, standing beside Archer, cast his gaze around the room making sure everyone looked suitably attentive.  
  
For once Archer had taken onboard some of Reed's suggestions for safety and security. The comm system was due to be overhauled and internal communications would be down for the entirety of Beta and Gamma shifts. Reed had therefore asked Archer that all personnel be issued with communicators. He knew, of course, that there weren't actually enough for one each, but he decided that left room for Archer to negotiate down to an acceptable level and still feel like he'd won. Of course, he sold it to Archer as a safety concern, not a security one.  
  
Now Reed was satisfied that the engineering teams who would be doing the work were going to be able to call for help—or raise the alarm—should anything unforeseen happen.  
  
He had seconded his two armoury staff to the engineering teams and was looking forward to getting on with work on his own, whilst being on-call to any problems that the refit teams may run into. It wasn't often enough that he got the armoury to himself, in his opinion, and he would be able to get on with some of his more personal projects and other routine maintenance.  
  
As Archer left the room Tucker began to read out lists of crew and explain which parts of the ship they were going to be responsible for.  
  
Reed watched his lover as well as keeping a close eye on the crews and their reactions to the schedules. It would be hard work, he knew, and a lot of it would be done in tight hard-to-reach spaces, but they couldn't afford to be without a working comm system for any longer than absolutely necessary so the schedule was demanding. Inside, he knew that the likelihood of him getting any work done was slim, so he was eager to start.  
  
As soon as the crews were sent on their way Reed headed for the exit.  
  
"Malcolm?" Trip called, seeing his lover heading for the door.  
  
Reed turned around, eyebrows raised in question.  
  
Tucker threw a communicator at him in response and smiled.  
  
"Sir, I'm only going to be in the armoury—I hardly need a..." he stopped at the look Trip gave him.  
  
"For one, I am not having members of my crew wasting time coming to find you if we need you, and for two you'll be in their on your own. You need to be able to get in touch with the rest of us," Trip said, a smile on his face.  
  
"Of course, sir," Malcolm answered, slightly embarrassed that in his eagerness he hadn't thought of the need for the teams to call on him. He pocketed the device and continued on his way.  
  
Reed had been called out twice in the first few hours, but he had managed to solve both problems fairly easily—it had taken longer to get to and from the sites of the issues than it had to sort them out.  
  
He began working on a small fault he had noticed with the aft cannon port door mechanism, lying on the floor and working methodically to find the source of the problem.  
  
He twisted around to reach a tool, used it, then put it next to him on the floor. He reached into the mechanism cursing the leather gloves he was wearing for making him fumble. He was tempted to take them off, but they offered protection from all the grease as well as the sharp edges. Some of the tools also required some gentle persuasion that was best given by a hard hit from a gloved hand.  
  
He decided to test the door again and reached up from his position to hit the close mechanism.  
  
As he turned to watch the doors slide closed he smiled. They seemed to be working correctly again. He hit the door release and out of the corner of his eye saw the hyperspanner he'd been using sliding with the door. Without thinking he reached to pull it out of the way.  
  
Before he even realised what was happening he heard the stitching of his leather glove start to give way. Part of his glove seemed to be stuck in one of the roller spindles at the bottom of the door. He tried to pull his hand away but it was stuck fast. Before he could do anything else there was a sharp pain as his hand started to twist and be pulled backwards, bending his fingers back. He tried to wrench his hand out, but as the pressure became unbearable there was a snapping sound, then his hand came away from the spindle with a ripping of leather. He reached up and hit the red stop button with his other hand, then looked down and saw that his glove was missing a large chunk. And his finger sticking out of it was missing everything from the last knuckle onwards. The entire action had taken less than a second, although to Reed it had felt as if he were moving in slow motion.  
  
"Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuck fucking bastard!" he said quietly, unable to stop staring at the white shiny bone that was now clearly visible at the end of his shortened middle finger. The skin and flesh was torn around it where the bone had been splintered—the end of his finger completely missing.  
  
"Shit. Fuck. You stupid fucking..." he reached out and pulled at the scrap of glove still caught in the mechanism. It unravelled easily and he looked inside to see the finger end that was no longer part of him. He felt his stomach turn a little and reached for his communicator, suddenly glad that Trip had reminded him to take one.  
  
Except the pocket he had put it in was on his right side. Try as he might he couldn't get his left hand to pull down the zip as the fabric was straining, pulling the zip to an impossible angle.  
  
He stood up and was surprised that he didn't feel too shaky. Carrying his now-detached body part he got as far as the door before encountering his first problem. The heavy door needed a good pull to open it. He looked from his mangled right hand to the precious cargo in his left, then very carefully transferred the leather-wrapped digit to his right hand, trying to grip it with his thumb and index finger.  
  
He pulled open the heavy blast-door and walked out into the narrow access way. He looked up at the ladder that led to the main corridor. Never had it looked so daunting.  
  
He took a few deep breaths and tried not to think about what he had to do. He carefully put the finger end in his top pocket and began climbing the ladder, doing his best not to look at his deformed hand which was just starting to bleed a little from the ripped flesh. It crossed his mind that he would expect more blood, and would perhaps rather see the relatively normal sight of blood than the sickeningly white bone and gristle.  
  
Once he was at the top of the ladder he set himself on autopilot, heading for sickbay. As he stood in the turbolift he began to become aware of the pain, the sickening throbbing—and he ignored it, gritting his teeth, knowing that any second he would see someone who could help.  
  
The doors slid open to reveal an empty corridor.  
  
"Fucking bastard," Reed whispered under his breath. He walked as steadily as he could towards engineering, his left hand held up as if to ward off unseen dangers, his right hand close to his chest.  
  
He made it to engineering and almost sobbed in relief as he saw Trip leaning over a nearby console.  
  
"Trip?"  
  
Tucker barely moved, just glancing enough to acknowledge Reed.  
  
"Trip?" Malcolm repeated.  
  
"Hang on, Mal, I just got to watch this. I'll be with you in a sec. Might even grab a coffee if you're—" he was cut off by Reed.  
  
"Trip, I...I need...I..."  
  
Tucker finally looked up, the slight waver in Reed's voice setting alarm bells ringing. He saw Malcolm holding something out and looking distinctly whiter than normal.  
  
He walked the few paces to his lover and took the small offered object, looking at it more closely he realised it was a scrap of leather.  
  
He looked up. "What is it?"  
  
"My finger." Reed held up his right hand in explanation.  
  
"Oh my God," Trip's mouth went dry and he could feel the blood drain from his face.  
  
He dragged his gaze from the disgusting sight of his lover's damaged hand and tried to form a coherent sentence.  
  
"I need help down here! Get me first aid and someone tell Phlox we're heading for sickbay. Someone else, tell the captain that Malcolm's injured. Now!"  
  
Trip grabbed the first aid box that he was handed and fumbled for a roll of bandage. He quickly wrapped it around the stump of finger, trying not to actually look at the mangled digit and all the while trying to gauge Malcolm's state.  
  
"We're going to walk to sickbay now, you okay with that? You think you can make that?" Trip asked, picking up the piece of leather and gingerly peering into it. He saw the lump of flesh and bone and gently shook it out onto a sterile pad and quickly wrapped it, holding it carefully. He swallowed hard to keep his lunch down at the sight of the pathetic bloody lump that only minutes ago had been attached to his lover.  
  
"Give me my finger," Reed said.  
  
"Mal, I think..."  
  
"It's my fucking finger, give it to me. I don't want you dropping it or treading on it or something," Reed said forcefully, reaching with his left hand to take the white bundle.  
  
Trip decided it would be much more sensible to give in to the other man, so handed over the finger-end and began guiding Reed toward the door.  
  
By the time they reached sickbay Trip was slightly less worried than he had been, Reed had managed to give him such an ear-bashing on every subject from 'stupid fucking ladders' to his apparent lack of prowess as a first aider.  
  
"Doc! I got a patient for you," Tucker called as soon as the sickbay doors began to open.  
  
Phlox appeared from beside a vacant biobed and smiled alarmingly.  
  
"Ah yes, Mr Reed, I was told to expect you. Now, let's just sit up here, rest your hand on there. Good. And if I could just have..." Phlox plucked the parcelled up body part from Reed's grasp. "Now, we'll see about making you whole again, shall we?"  
  
Tucker took a step back and let out a sigh of relief. Hess or someone else from engineering had obviously fully prepared Phlox for Reed's arrival.  
  
Now there was nothing for him to do Trip could feel shock starting to set in fully. He glanced around for a chair, not even trusting himself to lean on a biobed. His knees felt like jelly and he could see that his hands were shaking.  
  
Some sort of morbid fascination made him want to watch what Phlox was doing, but every time he caught sight of the bone blood and other innards that no one should ever be showing in public his stomach did a leap for his throat.  
  
"Well I can't see a problem in fixing that back on," Phlox was saying. "I'll need to remove the bone splinters, then we should be able to re-attach the finger. At least it's a nice clean separation. I'm almost certain we'll be able to re-attach it with little or no loss of feeling or movement, although you will need it to be splinted for a short time. Now, if I just give you this local numbing agent we'll set right about cleaning this up."  
  
"Commander Tucker, you should get back to work," Reed said, trying to ignore Phlox's examination of his now-numb hand.  
  
Phlox looked up, a grin on his face. "Indeed—although I'm not sure that the Captain would approve of all his staff working their fingers to the bone in quite this manner," his grin turned into the alarmingly wide Denobulan smile.  
  
Reed almost groaned at the attempted humour.  
  
"No, I...yes...I mean...no. I'll wait to...I'll just..." Tucker turned away, unable to look at the now clearly visible bone that Phlox was poking with some tweezers and pretty sure he'd never use that expression again in his life now.  
  
"Mister Tucker, could I suggest that you leave sickbay rather than faint? I have quite enough to deal with here already." Phlox said cheerfully, without looking round.  
  
Trip looked up into Malcolm's eyes. The Englishman nodded toward the door and Trip immediately headed out, his stomach churning. As the doors slid shut behind him he put an arm out to lean on the wall.  
  
"Trip?"  
  
Archer reached out and put his hand on Tucker's shoulder.  
  
"Cap'n, it's...he's okay, I think, I mean, Phlox doesn't seem too worried. It was just...it was disgusting. He just...handed me a part of his finger. There was all the bone and it was...I never want to see anything like that ever again," Trip shook his head, then covered his mouth as the image of Reed's severed finger came back into his mind.  
  
Archer rubbed a reassuring hand down Trip's upper arm. "I'd better just go and talk to Malcolm and Phlox. If you need to, go and sit in the mess, I'll come and find you."  
  
"I can't leave the engineering teams, not right now...I mean...tell Malcolm I'll be back as soon as I can be," Trip stuttered. He was being half-truthful, the refit teams needed a senior officer there, and with Reed out of action that only really left him. But he also couldn't face seeing the blood and gore. He had never thought of himself as squeamish before, but the things he had seen in the past minutes were really making him feel nauseous.  
  
Reed was trying to concentrate on anything apart from what Phlox was doing. Which wasn't easy, given that Phlox was talking excitedly about various techniques and explaining exactly what he thought had happened. He also picked up the finger end and pointed out exactly which bits needed attaching back to where—something Reed decided he definitely didn't want to know. It was hard enough to look at the bloodied inch or so of finger and realise that it was a part of him.  
  
"Now, if we just clean all this up..." Phlox proceeded to scrape away some bloodied goo. "And I'll put on some of this—which, interestingly, is extracted from a species of frog on Denobula which can regenerate any limbs it loses." Phlox began spreading a yellowish gel onto both ends of the severed finger in preparation for rejoining the tendons and other innards.  
  
"Now, Mister Reed, if you just lie back and relax we'll have this back on in a moment."  
  
Reed was perfectly happy to put his hand well out of his line of sight, so rested back onto the bed and closed his eyes, trying not to react as he felt the odd tug or movement on his arm.  
  
"Phlox? Malcolm?"  
  
"Ah, captain. Would you like to take a seat? You can stay to watch the procedure if you would like," Phlox said cheerfully.  
  
"Um..." Archer found his gaze resting on the length of finger no longer attached to his armoury officer and quickly looked away. "I just came to...how are you feeling, Malcolm?"  
  
"Fine, thank you, sir," Reed answered.  
  
Archer rolled his eyes. "What happened? Did something malfunction?"  
  
Reed sighed. "No, sir. I was...I suppose I just wasn't thinking. My glove got caught up in the mechanism of the door and...before I could get free...well, you can see the results," he waved his good hand toward where Phlox was working.  
  
Archer glanced across just as Phlox pulled out some bone fragments and held them up to examine them. "It will all be quite all right," Phlox said cheerfully. "I doubt there will be any permanent damage. Mr Reed will be, as you say, as good as new."  
  
"Um, good. That's...great. Malcolm, you just...take whatever time you need." Out of the corner of his eye he could see Phlox examining the detached part of the finger and decided that Trip had the right idea.  
  
"I'll, um...call me, if you need me. I'll be..." he turned away and made a quick exit before his breakfast decided to make an unwelcome re-appearance.  
  
Phlox went back to his work, occasionally turning Reed's hand this way or that as he tried to work all around the finger.  
  
After almost and hour Phlox got up from the stool he had been perched on. "There we go. Of course, I'll need you to come back every day so I can assess your recovery. Would you like to have a look?" The doctor held up Reed's hand so he could see the neat stitching and steri-glue lines.  
  
"It's very...nice. Thank you," Reed replied. He tried to move it, but nothing happened.  
  
"I've given you numbing shots and a paralyzing agent to ensure you don't damage the internal work I've done. Tomorrow I might allow you to try some gentle movements. For now I shall bandage you up to keep the site clean and protected. You won't need to stay here, but you must promise not to do anything that will jeopardise your recovery. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that your job will be considerably harder, if not impossible, without a fully working dominant hand."  
  
Reed nodded.  
  
"Of course, you can come back and see me at any time, hmm?" Phlox smiled as he fixed a splint and bandaged around Reed's hand.  
  
Reed nodded again, sliding off the biobed before Phlox had even finished speaking, in his effort to get out of sickbay as fast as possible.  
  
"If you feel dizzy then lie down!" Phlox called after him as the sickbay doors slid closed.  
  
Reed looked down at his heavily bandaged hand as he walked down the corridor. He was sure that Phlox had put double the amount of strapping on than it needed and there was no chance of any movement. He debated what to do, wondering if there was any work he could help with in his current state. He decided that if all else failed he could still do his paperwork in the armoury and be on call to assist the engineers, so headed for engineering.  
  
Trip did a double take when he saw Reed entering the room.  
  
"Mal! I mean...Lieutenant, shouldn't you be..." his gaze was drawn down to Reed's hand. "Did Phlox...put it back on?" he asked quietly.  
  
Reed nodded.  
  
"So...shouldn't you be in your quarters? Or...do you want to go to mine?" he asked quietly.  
  
Reed shook his head. "I'll still be on call for your crews. Phlox didn't think it would be a problem."  
  
Tucker frowned, not believing Phlox would have been quite so lenient, but he also knew that Malcolm wouldn't completely disobey the doctor if he had been sent to his quarters or the like.  
  
"So what are you going to do?" Trip asked.  
  
"I thought I'd just go in the armoury, do some paperwork. Tell your people to call me if they need me," Reed turned away, then remembered something. "Trip...could you...get the communicator out of my pocket?" he asked, looking a little embarrassed.  
  
"That's why you didn't call for help?" Trip asked. "You couldn't get to your communicator?"  
  
Reed nodded. "Couldn't get the bloody zip undone."  
  
Trip pulled the zip down easily and removed the communicator, then he unzipped the pocket on Reed's chest and slid the device inside.  
  
"Now, you go and get your work and bring it in here. You can use my office," he smiled.  
  
"Trip, I—" Reed's protest was cut off.  
  
"Either you work in here where I can keep and eye on you or I call the captain down and get him to order you back to your quarters."  
  
If looks could have killed Trip figured he would have been Phlox's second patient of the day.  
  
"Fine, I'll be back in five minutes. Or did you want me to go under escort?" Reed snapped.  
  
"Come on, Mal, you know I'm just trying to look out for you," Trip said softly.  
  
Reed frowned, but he didn't reply. Trip took it as a good sign and watched as Reed left engineering.  
  
The rest of the shift went smoothly, although Reed did manage to escape the office at every opportunity, much to Trip's frustration.  
  
Finally the communications were back online and working correctly. Trip stowed his tools away and leant in the doorway of the office.  
  
"Come on, time for bed," he said softly.  
  
Reed looked up and Tucker could see that he was kneading his hand as if in pain.  
  
"Does it hurt?" he asked.  
  
Reed nodded. "I think whatever Phlox gave me wore off."  
  
"Well we'll drop by sickbay on the way to mine. Then I need to hit the sack," Trip smiled.  
  
A short time later they were in Tucker's bed, Reed half asleep in Tucker's arms.  
  
"You going to have the day off tomorrow?" Trip murmured.  
  
"No," Reed mumbled. "Gotta fix the aft cannon door. Some idiot got half a glove jammed in the mechanism."  
  
"That's my Mal, always got his finger on the problem," Trip whispered.  
  
An elbow he got in the ribs was all the answer he got.


End file.
